


Building Home

by orphan_account



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Class Issues, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, M/M, Overworking, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-15 01:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16052723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: AU Johnny and Dallas settle down but can they ever really escape their pasts?





	1. Chapter 1

It was a shack with peeling paint and rusty gutters but the windows were sealed and the fireplace was sturdy. It was a single bedroom with a cracked-tile bathroom with more of a kitchenette than a kitchen, but the roof didn't leak (much) and the porch step was low enough Johnny could get his wheelchair in and out with the help of the rail the gang built. The wood floor hadn't been waxed in years (probably never would be) and it was scuffed to hell but Dallas swept it everyday and had wiped off every wall scuff until the house was spic and span the day Johnny took his first look. Most importantly, it was to be their home.

" Could paint it real nice, " Johnny said with a mouthful of burger; neither of them had ever learned to cook so it was take out most nights. Other times, Johnny would grab a bite at the Curtis's and Dallas would lift a candy bar or pack of cigs between jobs.

The older greaser nodded because paint cans we're 75¢ and it was a quick calculation of how much they'd need to strip and paint the outside, and when he didn't have a day shift. And it was a nice feeling, imagining Johnny smiling proud at the house they'd soon be fixing up. 5k hadn't been chump change but Dallas had had time while Johnny was in and out of surgeries, on bed rest until physical therapy started, and all that. Two jobs and side races and pool games; he'd used his five finger discount as much as he could and so when Johnny had moved into the Curtis's, Dallas was close enough that he had started looking at For Sale signs.

" It'll get it, I'll find the one."

"You're crazy, man."

Dallas had shaken his head and kept working, kept sleeping at Buck's and in the park on rowdy nights, but stayed out of trouble until he'd seen it in the paper.

_**Realtor Special: 5k for fixer upper!** _

_**Serious inquiries only, Shannon Wynne at: (209) 455-9691** _

Johnny hadn't believed him, had a hard time looking at the wads of cash that were just shy of 5k. Dallas had been shaking, having come off a 10 hour shift backed up to an 8hr shift on just cigarettes and black coffee to keep him going. He'd knelt at the younger man's feet as he sat in his new wheelchair, hand on his knee.

" You and me could make it real nice."

Trembling fingers had counted the bills, " Ain't got enough. And what if-"

" I can get it, " Dallas had insisted, "End of the week, I could-"

"Who'd sell to a pair of punks like us-"

Dallas had grit his teeth, " It'll happen. If not this one, I'll keep workin' and savin-"

" And what will I do? You can't just take care of me forever-"

They'd had this conversation before and always went around and around, " Just got your GED, didn't you? Could get an easy job, like a desk job. But there ain't nothing wrong with you minding the house."

"I ain't gonna be good enough, Dally. I can't even, " Johnny had gestured to his chair with a scarred hand, " I ain't smart enough for a desk job. I can't do nothin. Bad enough I'm mooching off Ponyboy and Darry and Soda-"

" Damn it all, Johnny, " Dallas had snapped, " You're already doing it. You're already doing better. And is it so hard to understand I ain't doing you a favor? I want this, for me. I want-"

Dallas had stopped; Johnny knew how he felt but saying it was different than showing it. And he wasn't Ponyboy with all his fancy words. But something seemed to work because suddenly, a hand covered his. They remained like that for a while until finally, Johnny spoke.

" The parents of those kids...they wanted to give me something, for what I did."

Dallas had nodded as he carefully put away the money, proof of over a year of hard work; he'd seen the get well cards and stuffed animals and flowers. What was so important about those? But then the dark haired young man, no longer a teen with bruises on his face and too much grease in his hair, gestured towards the hall outside the room he shared with Pony.

"Darry put it away for me. We gotta let him know, see if it's enough to..."

Dallas hadn't been able to contain himself, wrapping his arms around Johnny tight but with care to his latest skin graphs. It had been enough in the end. They had been enough, in Shannon's eyes because three months down the line the house was theirs and they were gonna fill it with furniture and paint it, clean it, and maybe get a dog. And it was maybe not much to be proud of, certainly not like the houses owned by the Socs but it was more than enough for two nobodies. 

" I go in Monday."

Now, Dallas watched Johnny wad up his fry wrapper; he couldn't remember if there was an upcoming doctor appointment on Monday so he asked, " Where?"

"Starting me off small," a shy smile makes Dallas flush," Three days a week, morning to noon."

The blonde stares as a thought comes to mind, " The...library?"

"Yeah, gonna be a...clerk, at the front desk. Pony helped me with a real nice cover letter and-"

The kiss ends as soon as it begins. Dallas is grinning like a fool and Johnny is smiling, honest to goodness happy, "I want a blue house, and some flowers out front. Maybe a nicer path so the dirt don't get stuck in my wheels. And-"

Dallas kisses him again.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Johnny wheels himself home, he let's himself in, tidies up, and has a sandwich ready for Dallas when he gets home at a quarter to 10. Understandably, the blonde flips.

" Matthews was suppose to pick you up!"

"Dal, it's only three blocks down."

"Anything coulda happened. What if some damn Soc-"

Johnny huffed weakly, shivering a bit in fear at just the thought but he remains firm, " I'm fine. Don't think anyone would jump me now, now that I'm c-crippled."

"Yer not crippled, " he mutters, tired from another long day at the shop, then the construction yard; he'd lost a race the night before and his elbow still ached from being thrown. But he wasn't some crybaby so he kept quiet, kept his arm close to his side as he poked at the sandwich that had been forced into his hands, " Anything coulda happened. What if a car swerved? What if your wheel-"

" You say I'm not crippled but I can't even go three blocks without you losing your cool."

" You're not, but you still coulda been hurt."

Johnny scowled, " I've been hurt, Dal. Been jumped and beat and b-burned...broken to pieces. I'm tired of being scared. It doesn't do me no good. "

Dallas didn't know what to say; he'd never seen Johnny this way but looking into his watery brown eyes, he could still see all the fear and pain...but something else. Johnny wasn't ducking his head anymore, was looking him right in the eye with determination. He was real proud of Johnny for getting his GED (it certainly hadn't been easy) and a job (honestly, no one bad expected it) and he liked the change, but he still was worried. But before he could say this, the topic changed.

" You know, I don't want you to be in pain neither."

"Me?"

Johnny wheeled closer, gently touching his arm, " What happened? You're holding it funny."

Dallas mutters, finally explaining that he'd landed wrong; it took some effort removing his leather jacket but at last, his purple joint was revealed. Dislocated, he thought and he tried to relax under Johnny's probbing fingers, even as they found a bruise on his side too. Eyes softening, the younger greaser traced lean muscle and also his ribs that had begun to be more prominent. Admiration shined in his eyes as Dally leaned forward to press dry lips to his forehead.

" I want to do things on my own. If I need help, I'll ask but you gotta let me. I'll go crazy, man. I'll go nuts if I gotta always be asking people for things."

" Ain't nothing wrong with askin'."

"Yeah, but only if I need it." Johnny frowned, " It's three blocks. No one needs to waste the gas and their time to get me three blocks. I'll come right home and if I start staying my full eight, maybe one if the gang can walk with me."

" There's a payphone at the library, right? You let me know if-"

"Shoot, Dally. I've always let you know before if I'll be home late or working or going with Pony."

Dally nods and slowly begins to eat.

"But if I get more hours..." Johnny's tone is cautious.

" No."

His brown, puppydog eyes narrow, " We wouldn't need you to. You can just do the mechanic shop."

"Naw, no way."

Johnny pulled him into a kiss that made his knees weak. Dallas knew how things would escalate but he didn't want to lose this fight, wanted to be firm. He was doing okay; he could handle working because he'd do anything for Johnny. He would work himself to death if it meant getting the smaller man everything he wanted. He'd started painting the exterior blue and this weekend he'd be mixing cement for a better path to the front door. No matter how tired he was, Johnny was important, just Johnny.


	3. Chapter 3

Tucked into the waist of Johnny's jeans, was a gun. But it was more of an agreement than a weapon, or at least that was what he'd told Pony.

He and Dallas had agreed three blocks wasn't much if he called someone to let him know he'd gotten home safe (Steve had shown up one day with a Princess phone and installed it without a word). And when his hours increased, it became a ritual. Go to work at 8am, get lunch at 12pm with one of the gang, and come home at 4pm and let someone know he was okay by phone. Then, clean and cook something for Dallas who usually came in around 10pm unless he'd booked a race.

He had certainly become more brave, more argumentative but he knew he was gonna be hard pressed to get Dallas to change. As Sodapop had said with a snicker, he'd have an easier time getting him to quit smoking than racing. But he thought, or hoped, Dallas would consider taking some time off because it was starting to feel like they only saw each other for an hour a day. After another night of kisses and caresses, Johnny tried again with doe eyes and a whisper.

" We're good with what we got."

But the blonde just shook his head, " Not yet."

And things went continued like that for a time until one day, when they had the gang over to finish up some changes to the house like a wall grip and a path out back...Dallas suddenly paled. A cigarette hung between his fingers as his adam's apple bobbed and then, from one moment to the next, he'd upchucked coca cola and stomache acid into the dirt outside the backdoor.

Two-bit lurched to his feet, " Damn, you okay there?"

Johnny tried to move closer but his lover had already jumped back like a skittish alleycat. He eyed the group, a hand pressed to his belly as he dropped the cigarette. He was working to steel his nerves, harden his features but then he leaned over to throw up again and all progress was ruined.

Johnny wished not for the first time that he could stand, could move a bit quicker. Darry got to Dallas first, rubbing his back as the rest of the gang watched in stunned silence. Undoubtedly, Dallas is the toughest and roughest of them; he certainly softened a bit with the domestic life they we're living now but he'd still knock your teeth out if he thought you were pitying him.

" Gotta be careful smoking on an empty stomach, " Soda comments and it works to ease the situation a bit.

" It's a little warm out. And we have been sitting in the sun." Steve notes.

Johnny is finally close enough to press a cup of water into Dallas's hands. Darry is still patting his back though he's long since settled down. No one seems to be looking their way, Two-Bit moving quick to pull an article out of his back pocket that he'd swiped out of a magazine at the Quick Stop. The guys whoop and yell so it leaves little to the imagination what type of maagzine he'd taken it from. Most importantly, it keeps everyone's attention away from the three of them, so Johnny can whisper, "What's wrong?"

But his lover, his best friend, just shakes his head; he's not as pale but he still doesn't look like the nausea has passed.

" Sit before you fall, " Darry says and to their surprise, Dallas listens.

They all sit as Johnny parks his chair; he feels a hand on his knee and he clasps it, worried about how clammy the appendage feels. The puddle of vomit is covered in several handfuls of dirt and they all try not to mention the incident, focusing instead on making the perfect walkway. They all press their hands into the cement towards the end of the walk, not anywhere it will trip Johnny up and the day ends well, great even, as the sun sets on the Eastside of Tulsa.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Johnny paces and waits, watched the clock on the wall go from 12:28am to 7:59am. He's supposed to be at work but he calls out, talks to the understanding librarian who tells him to get well soon. She probably mistook the rasp to his voice for a sore throat. But he isn't sick, except if you mean sick with worry because Dallas was supposed to be home at 10pm which was 12 hours ago and he suddenly remembers the incident in the backyard and the dizzy spell that almost made Dallas fall off a ladder, and the paleness when offered food, and the bags under his eyes-

He uses the Princess phone to call around because maybe there was a race last night or a fight. No one seems to know for sure and if he was able to go around on foot, check the typical spots or even see if Shepard had an idea of what was going on, he probably would have had better luck. As the hours passed, he rocked between frustrated and frightened. Dallas was maybe holed up at Buck's but he didn't usually do that because Johnny was always willing to patch him up. But what if he was hurt enough he couldn't make it home or he got arrested or hospitalized? They had been lucky Johnny 's bills had been paid by this parent's insurance but they couldn't afford anything like that and he certainly didn't want Dallas in pain. They were doing good saving money but if Dallas lost both his jobs, if he became crippled too-

Johnny is crying when the front door opens and in staggers Dallas, the left side of his face various shades of purple and blue.

"M'sorry, Johnnycake."

The darker skinned male can't seem to get the words out between sobs. He's helpless, so helpless; if he'd lost Dallas then what would he have, he thought. What would he do and more importantly, if Dallas needed him, what would he be able to do? He had lied to himself, thinking he had reached some level of independence by getting a job but he probably only had that job because of Pony and because the librarian pitied him. He wasn't anything, not even a greaser now with his broken spine.

It felt like all his insecurities were coming out and as he looked at his lover, who knelt before him with a wince, he knew he was be able to do one of the most important things a man was supposed to: protect and defend the people he cared about.

" Locked up, for fighting."

" With who? I talked to everybody. No one knew where you was!"

The blond stares at the floor and it's then Johnny sees the stains on his shirtfront, like Dallas had gotten sick. There were also smears of blood, a new tear in his jeans-

" M'sorry, " comes the same response and more angry tears come; Dallas grips Johnny's knees as he continues to kneel, "Woulda called if I coulda-"

" Fighting's useless, " Johnny insists, " It ain't proving a thing. Dallas, don't ya get it? We could lose it all if-"

The older greaser scowls, " You don't think I know that? Look, I didn't go looking this time. They came to me for a fight and I ain't a coward. I gave 'em hell. You know how it is out there. Ain't that long ago you was fighting alongside us hoods, getting jumped, fighting back."

It stings because while a part of him is greatful that that chapter of his life, the one that included his parents too was over, he felt almost ashamed aswell. But he knew what Dallas meant; life would never be easy for folks like them and maybe he had gotten to thinking that the house, the job, their relationship...that these were a sign of a better way of living. He swallows thickly, knowing he probably looks like a mess.

"How many?"

Dallas curses, " Six. The little one ran off quick."

" You all got taken in?"

" Yeah, right outside the laundry mat on 12th."

Johnny sucks in a breath as he places his hands on either side of Dallas's head. The bruises give off heat and he can tell it's painful; he knows there are probably far more bruises and welts under Dallas's clothes but he's not sure he can handle seeing them right now.

" Any charges?"

"Dropped. Took a look at this mug and decided I looked sorry enough."

Johnny released a breath he didn't know he was holding, " Are you...is anything broken? I could stitch you up, help you to bed?"

Dallas kisses him gently as he stands, pain darting across his face. It was obvious he would decline but it was worth a shot. He wheeled after him as he headed towards the bathroom, got him a washrag and a glass of water to take some aspirin tablets. He did is best to turn down the bed for him too but Dallas didn't seem too interested in getting under the covers. He seemed to fall asleep quickly, laying on his back which was unusual as he was a notorious stomache sleeper. Johnny guessed it had to do with his injuries and slowly headed back to the phone. He knew the gang was probably still out looking and with one last glance at his wounded lover, he began dialing.


	5. Chapter 5

Johnny would have gone grocery shopping at 4, when he was off work but his arms were tired from checking in books and to be honest, he felt a little anxious going himself. But the problem with waiting until 10pm was that few shops were open and so they had to settle for 24/7 gas stations. And with gas stations...Dally had sort of a reputation. Even though they chose one on the other side of town, it wasn't like they still didn't look like hoods.

The clerk's eyes followed them where ever they went but they weren't doing nothing this time. Dallas's face was still black and blue and he was still favoring his side although he rose every day for work without complaint.

They had money to buy everything they wanted but the problem was finding what they wanted, something healthy, Johnny decided. Dallas didn't eat much other than an occasional sandwich and chocolate bar, usually downed a beer and smoked until he went to bed. It worried Johnny but he never really commented, never really had to look their poor eating habits in the face because it wasn't like he ate too good either. Lots of chips and gummies, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches because bologna and cheese made him feel nauseated. And really, gas stations had the kind of food they'd eat so he guessed it was fine; he'd probably grow old and die before Dally willingly ate a vegetable and they would probably feel weird in a grocery store with all the mothers and children, and clean cut families.

In his lap he'd placed a jar of peanut butter, a bag of bread, blackberry jam, two cartons of eggs, two packs of jerky, a jug of milk, a can of coffee, two candy bars, a bag of candy peanuts, sunflower seeds, and a six pack. He wheeled his chair in between the aisles carefully, one hand on a wheel and the other on the items. He thought maybe something would fall but then Dallas appeared and grabbed the handlebars at his back. 

Johnny hugged the items to his chest as they approached the register. Dallas moved to start depositing things from his lap on to the counter and knocked a display just slightly, hissing in pain before be could catch himself.

The clerk frowned, " Alright there, son?"

Dallas muttered something and continued to place items onto the counter; Johnny was quick to strike up a conversation, " H-he'll be just fine. C-could we get a pack of Kools?"

The clerk shook his head, " Alittle young to be smoking, ain't y'all? I'mma need to see some ID for the beer."

Roughly, Dally threw his wallet onto the counter; the clerk stared at the torn up leather before opening it up to see the driver's license inside. Satisfied, he turned back to grab the carton of cigarettes and then began ringing them up. Johnny watched the amount increase on the register before adding one last thing: aspirin tablets. Dallas grabbed those as soon as they were rung up and Johnny took a wad of cash out of his coat pocket and began to count. He was $7.24 short but seeing that Dallas's wallet was still on the counter, he gingerly flipped it open.

Dallas didn't care, too focused on swallowing two aspirin and a mouthful of beer from the six pack. The clerk was watching him but was visibly relieved when Johnny handed him the right amount. He stuck the receipt with Dallas's wallet into the bag and leaned over the counter to place it in Johnny's lap. With a clink, the empty beer bottle was placed on the counter as the cigs and aspirin bottle went into the overstuffed bag.

" Careful there, son. Aspirin is a blood thinner. Alcohol and blood thinners-"

Before Dallas could retort with something caustic, the bell chimed, signaling a customer had walked in. But it wasn't just your typical lush or older hood; Johnny's heart skipped a beat when his eyes saw the gun and the sock over the man's face. Then, he heard breaking glass and all he could see was the black, shiny leather of Dallas's jacket. There was a scuffle; the gas station clerk was yelling to beat the band but it was over quick enough.

The bell chimed again as the assailant fled, leaving behind blood splatters and the gun, and most of all, Dallas who stayed crouched on the floor panting. He'd hit the man over the head with the beer bottle and disarmed him, all in a total of 30 seconds.

The clerk had a phone pressed to his ear as he yelled, " Did he get you? Do you need an ambulance? Jeez Louise, kid!"

"Dally, " Johnny is trembling; he hadn't been able to do a damn thing, had he? It happened so fast and he'd just sat there as his best friend, his soul mate was- he couldn't breath and the clerk seemed to notice this, coming around the counter with the phone to grip his shoulder.

" Easy, there, easy. Are you alright? Can you stand?"

No, I can't even walk a single step, Johnny thinks before he realizes they are taking to Dallas who can't seem to get up off his knees. He's not answering them either but when the sound of sirens approaches, it gets them both; Johnny rolls closer to pat Dallas's back. They had to go, but despite his verbal claims that he didn't need help, that they didn't have the money for doctor bills, Dallas can't seem to stand up. The gun hadn't gone off, Johnny knew but something was wrong; was it his ribs from the week before?

"You boys just sit tight. Do you got anyone you want me to call?"

Johnny waits for Dallas to respond but then there are flashing lights peeking through the front windows. His heart continues to beat like crazy and automatically, he becomes mute at the sight of two cops. The clerk goes to greet them as the darker skinned greaser hugs his groceries with one arm and grips the back collar of Dally's jacket. The blond stays looking at the floor and he's shaking now in anything but fear. One of the cops kneels just as a white shirted paramedic comes in.

" This kid fought him off. There's the gun he had, headed east with a red shirt, black pants. Big fella. I'd be in a world of trouble if not for them. I'll pay for him to see a doctor. "

"We got another cruiser tailing him. Someone saw him jump a fence into a backyard on Alvin Street. Sir, are you hurt?"

Johnny stares blankly as the paramedic and cop fail to get responses out of Dally. His grip remains tight on his collar but to his horror, his friend begins to slump forward. It nearly pulls Johnny out of his wheelchair and his uneven breathes become reminiscent of sobs. The cop has Dallas by the shoulders, and Johnny has to let go, has to watch as they lower him to his side as the medic starts checking his pulse and patting him down.

" What happened here?"

Johnny doesn't say a word as they prod at the bruises on the older hood, just shakes his head as tears trickle down his cheeks and into the paper grocery bag.

" Let's get a stretcher in here. Blood pressure is abnormal. Unresponsive-"

Johnny hiccups, " N-no, Dallas-"

"Son, I can call someone for you. How about your folks, a friend, your girl maybe?"

" Wanna ride with h-him."

The paramedic looks at his wheelchair and Johnny feels his heart sink. He realizes then that he can't go with him; he's once more useless and in the way because if his disability. And so he forces through his tears the name and number for Darry who promises to be there in a jiffy with Soda so they can get their Mustang and drive it home. It seems like one moment to the next and then Pony has wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Sodapop is uncurling his fingers from the car keys, and Darry is shaking the hand of the grocery clerk.

" Let's drop this off and we'll head to the hospital-"

Johnny shakes his head because they're wasting time but they still stop by home, deposit the groceries and car, and then speed to the same hospital that Johnny had been confined to a year and a half ago. It scared him, thinking about Dallas being forced to undergo surgery or being hurt like he was. He had thought he was okay, just bruised but now he wondered if he'd failed to see a knife or if the gun had in fact gone off and he'd been so scared he hadn't heard it. What if Dallas was dying and he wasn't there? What if Dallas was asking for him and here he was, wasting time all because his stupid wheelchair kept him from traveling in the ambulance and his stupid disability made him useless?

Pony is helping him out if the car and into his chair, is wheeling him in as Darry takes charge.

"Are you family?"

" We're the closest thing he's got, " Soda snaps but Darry is quick to add as he points to Johnny, " He's his emergency contact and listed as the one to make medical decisions for him. Jonathan A. Cade."

The nurse flips through her paperwork slowly, looking bored before she finally looks at him, " They just brought him in. I'll have the doctor come speak with you, Mr. Cade. Please have a seat."

They all sit in the corner, taking a whole bench to themselves in the sterile quiet waiting room. And then, they wait.


	6. Chapter 6

In every relationship, there is someone with more power. In their world, it was the Socs who had more power, more influence and in general more because it was given to them without question, without the same hard work or struggle as other people. Hoods like them knew what it meant to work hard just to be given scraps, to struggle just to get your foot in the door; he felt like he and Dal had had more trouble than alot of people, but when it came to power, their relationship still operated in the same way. Johnny had always thought that Dallas had more power because he admired and relied on him for so much; especially now, he had to rely on him for basic things like bathing, getting dressed, and just normal functions he'd taken for granted.

Dallas wasn't crippled and even if he hadn't finished school, he wasn't dumb by any means and so it stood to reason that Johnny needed him more than Dallas would ever need him. And he felt that sharply in the sterile waiting room, because he'd known Dallas was overworking himself but he hadn't been able to stop him. And he knew that it was because he was weak, because he was even less capable of defending himself that Dallas had jumped in front of Johnny in the gas station. He really was no good for him, of absolutely no use, and yet he didn't have a way of living without him or someone else's help so he couldn't even run away; he felt tears of shame well up in his eyes as he continued to tremble. This was his fault. Dallas was hurt and chained to him and it was all Johnny's fault.

"It's okay, " Pony tried, wrapping an arm around him, " Dal is tough. Before you know it he'll be awake and cussing up a storm."

But when the doctor emerged from down the long hall to speak with him, he knew already good news wasn't on the way, "I presume, you are Mr. Cade?'. Alright, well. Mr. Winston is stable, but I do have some concerns about his condition. It would be more comfortable if we discussed this in my office as confidentiality does apply-"

"You can take your confidentiality and sho-"

Steve shoved Two-Bit hard enough to cut him off just as Darry stood, placing a thick hand on Johnny's shoulder; perhaps Johnny's dazed expression was a give away that he was unsure about what being Dally's emergency contact entailed. While he had recently turned eighteen, he'd never been responsible for another person before, unlike Darry who swooped in so carefully that he almost wished he had been made Dally's contact instead, " We're not trying to peer into your patient's business but he is our friend. We just want to know he's alright and if you want us to stand a bit off to the side, that's fine. You can talk to Johnny without us butting in."

"It's just due to the nature of his injuries-"

"Is he gonna make it?"

Johnny falters because his voice had come out breathy, like when he first came out of the hospital and his lungs had been recovering from the fire. He knows he's made himself seem even more useless than he already looks because the doctor frowns and asks who Darry is and what is connection is. Not the least bit frazzled, the eldest Curtis introduces himself with a handshake. Seeming to debate in his mind for a moment, finally the grey haired medical professional comes to a decision and offers carefully, "Well, if Mr. Cade authorizes it, I'll speak to the both of you. "

Darry's hand on his shoulder is a welcome weigh. The doctor nods distractedly as Johnny sputters out his approval and then he meets the eye of a heavyset nurse who waves at him from across the waiting room, approaching with a clipboard; they review it together before she walks off, " We can discuss this in Mr. Winston's room as he's finally been assigned one."

"So he's gotta stay the night? That don't sound good."

The doctor just looks at Soda sternly, then turns on his heel; the gang stands but doesn't follow. Darry quickly pushes Johnny after him, following the doctor down the hall to the elevator. They watch the man in the white coat press the third floor button, back him and his chair into the elevator backwards to avoid him tipping out, wait for them to be lifted, and then for the doors to open. It's a tense silence with no words being exchanged until they reached door 312. The doctor knocks but enters brisky, opening the door to reveal...Johnny bit his lip as Darry steered his wheelchair inside, careful of the narrow doorway.

"Mr. Curtis, Mr. Cade, " the doctor begins, " Would you say your friend engages in quite a bit of fighting?"

"Yes, " Johnny admits, " But he doesn't go looking for it."

"Whether he looks for them or vice versa, he has injuries that should have inspired a trip to the hospital much sooner. Two of his ribs are broken and he's littered in bruises and abrasions. He shows signs of a poorly healed collarbone fracture, a dislocated elbow, broken orbital, and the list goes on. We've wrapped the ribs as best we can, given him medication for the pain and antibiotics but that's just the tip of the iceburg. Tell me, does your friend have digestive issues? Allergies? Recently recovered from a stomach bug? Perhaps have an anxiety or reflex condition?"

Even Darry was speechless at this point as the doctor, in his apathetic way, plunged into it. He would often gesture to Dallas who lay still, unconscious on the bed. His clothes had been removed and only a white sheet concealed up as his chest was bare; Johnny could see his collarbone clearly and knew this is what even he had trouble acknowledging; he thought maybe he was just not used to eating more due to both of his jobs being strenuous but

"He's malnourished and there is damage to the esophagus, which- Mr. Cade?"

Johnny had begun to sob, his elbows meeting his knees as he hunched. Darry reacted quickly, kneeling down to rub his back and talk to him as the doctor watched on. The tears seemed to endless, just like the tightness and pain in his chest like he was a balloon about to burst. He couldn't hardly see Dallas through his blurry vision but the image was already ingrained in his mind, of Dallas pale and thin and bruised. He was right there, within arms reach and yet Johnny couldn't do a damn thing. He couldn't even get close to the bed because of his damn chair and it was all just too much; he wished he had never survived the fire. He wished the Socs has just finished him off or something, anything, that would prevent this reality. Because he loved Dallas and he knew he'd die without him, would feel empty if they were apart...but atleast he wouldn't be a burden on the man he loved, slowly draining him until there was nothing left.

\---  
"Wha...happened?"

Darry looked up from his hands, " Gas station. Guy got a lucky shot to your ribs."

"Fuck, " Dallas groaned in pain, rubbing his face with his hands; he had woken in a start, sweaty yet cold. He could feel his ribs throbbing beneath the pain meds and it was gonna be hard going to work in the morning. He'd kept his duties light once they had seen his bruised face but he knew his foreman needed him out doing the more heavy lifting. The thought itself was exhausting but he had to do it, had to keep going which gave him the strength to push himself into an upright position. Blinking away the spots that immediately appeared in his vision, he tried to ignore the figure in the chair next to him and the disappointment that Johnny wasn't there; it was probably for the best given how much his lover worried.

"Hey, don't get up just yet."

"Gotta, gotta get up. For Johnny-"

Darry grabbed both of his arms as gently as he could and when the other tried to struggle, he pulled him into a hug. Dallas froze at that before bringing his arm up, the one not connected to an IV, to hug the eldest Curtis back. No one said a word for a long moment before finally, Darry pulled way, " I know what it's like to constantly worry and have to take care of someone, Dal. But you gotta take care of you too. Johnny needs you at your best. It's not tough to go it alone, not when the gang wants to help."

"That's just it, " Dallas whispered through dry, cracked lips, " He don't need me. He needs someone better, smarter, who ain't some punk trying to play house. I'm gonna mess up, Darry, more than I have and I'll shoot myself before I let him go down with me."

"There isn't anybody better or anybody that kid loves more, Dallas. You gotta see that."

"No, " Dallas insisted around the lump in his throat because he had always known that he needed and cared about Johnny more than he cared and needed him; Johnny was smart and an example of the good in the world, and the exact opposite of what Dally was: a no good hood with no future. He could feel whatever was in the IV threatening to pull him down, to knock him out again; to his horror, he couldn't find the strength to stop leaning on Darry who slowly positioned him back in the hospital bed, " I'm no good, man."

A nurse entered the room and when the door swung open fully, he saw Johnny in the doorway and it made the feeling worse. Slinging an arm across his eyes to hide his emotions, Dallas tried to sound cool and composed as he called out hoarsely, " Don't you cry over me, Johnnycake, not for even a second."

He could hear his wheels on the slick floor and tenses when a hand began to tug at his arm; he let it fall away and shame burned within him as his red, watery eyes were revealed to just was glistening brown eyes. Johnny intertwined their fingers and tried to smile, despite letting out a loud sniffle. Darry chatted with the nurse who nodded and swiftly began to fiddle with Dallas' IV; he didn't pay her any mind, focused solely on Johnny who had managed a weak half smile. Dallas couldn't think of anyone more handsome and only wished he could look more tough. But exhaustion was falling over him in waves and as the pain receded, so did his grip on consciousness. He tried to fight it but eventually, he was lulled by the feel of Johnny's thumb stroking the back of his knuckles.


End file.
